Catwalker
by The Goddess Bastet
Summary: Hermione has to work undercover at a beauty pageant... while being under the watchful eye of a certain Draco Malfoy
1. Propositions

Catwalker  
  
by  
The Goddess Bastet  
  
Rated R just to be safe.  
  
Summary : Hermione has to work undercover at a beauty pageant... while being under the watchful eye of a certain Draco Malfoy. Any resemblance to "Miss Congeniality" is not exactly co- incidental.  
  
Disclaimer: I do not own "Harry Potter" and associated characters and terms.  
  
Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama, Thriller, Horror.  
  
Chapter 1: Propositions  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
She stumbled as her bare foot hit a partially concealed rock, and she would have fallen hard if she hadn't grasped desperately at the bark of a nearby tree. Her fingers were thoroughly scraped and bruised and her feet stung from the thorny bramble and rocky ground over which she scrambled. Her robes were tattered as a result of being ripped by low-lying branches as she fled past them. She ignored the pain because she had to. Her pursuer was close - she could sense it, even though she couldn't hear anything other than her own shallow pants. She didn't dare look behind her but continued to struggle onwards in the dark, vast wood. Terror propelled her to move even though she had no idea where to go. She felt as though she was being herded to her doom.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
Hermione woke up gasping for breath and covered in a cold sheen of sweat.  
  
Another nightmare.  
  
She made a mental note to give the local Sandman a call and register a complaint about his lousy services. Trembling, she looked at her bedside clock and moaned when she saw that it was 2AM. There was no way in hell she'd be able to fall back asleep now. A bad thing, seeing that Hermione Granger desperately needed her sleep. She needed to be sharp and in control for when she met with the review board later that morning. Just thinking about the ordeal that she'd be facing several hours later was enough to make her groan in despair. Resting an arm over her tired eyes, she decided that it wouldn't hurt to go over her appeal just one more time...  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
"Miss Granger, I'm afraid that the review board is not willing to let you back into the Auror Squad at this stage."  
  
With those words, Hermione's eyes closed briefly in pain at her defeat. She'd worked so hard...  
  
"However," continued the Minister of Magic, "we feel that you have served your suspension well, and that you should remain within the Ministry of Magic. To that end, we feel that your talents could be used in a different field. It has been unanimously agreed that you should be assigned to the Potions Lab, as you are experienced in that area. Your position will be re-evaluated after 12 months after which we may decide to return you to Law Enforcement. If you find the new position unacceptable, you may of course, resign from the Ministry."  
  
Hermione rubbed her throbbing temple furiously. One little breach of conduct after nothing less than exemplary service and she's not an Auror anymore. Harry and Ron would be so disappointed. Looking up finally she realised that Fudge and his cronies were waiting for her to say something. Drawing a deep breath she answered in as calm a manner as she could muster.  
  
"Minister, I accept."  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
6 Months later  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
The figure, shrouded in robes, strode menacingly across the rough-edged rock that floored the cavern. The cowering woman, who lay sprawled across the ground, looked up beseechingly, pleading with her eyes to be spared.  
  
Yet she knew.  
  
She knew that there was no hope.  
  
She knew that this was to be her end.  
  
Under the dark shadow of the hood, her assailant smiled: A cold and sinister smile - and along with a regal raise of the wand, the words which could not be undone were uttered in a soft - but powerful - voice.  
  
"Avada Kedavra"  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
"Another murder!" groaned Harry Potter as he read the latest owl mail from the Minister of Magic. Within the month, a total of four witches had been declared missing, only to turn up a few days later - as horribly disfigured corpses. Each of the women had been beauties: young, nubile and attractive, as was evident from the photographs that their weeping families had presented him with.  
  
It was sometimes hard, he admitted to himself, to do the job he did. Working for the Ministry of Magic in the Magical Crimes Investigation Unit - a special branch of the Auror Squad - had exposed him to the harsher elements of human depravity. Lord Voldemort had not been the first, nor had he been the last wizard to cross over to the Dark side. Society had always had unpleasant pests on its back and it was Harry's - and Ron's - job to pour on the flea powder. Not for the first time, he wished that Hermione was still on the squad. She offered him a different perspective on motives and generally was the best partner to have in stressful conditions. Ron, brilliant Auror though he may be, tended to lose his head when the job became too gruesome or involved spiders. If only Hermione hadn't got herself suspended, she'd be helping him on this case.  
  
He thought about the victims. They were all contestants in an upcoming competition - the "Witch Weekly's Annual Miss Charming Beauty Pageant. If any answers were to be found, it would be best to start there.  
  
And that's when the plan struck him.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
"Fig tree bark? Why would he add fig tree bark?" muttered Hermione as she surveyed her junior assistant's list of potential ingredients for a project in process. From the corner of her eye she could see an owl waiting impatiently for her to acknowledge it. She continued to ignore it. The Potion Lab job, although accepted with resentment, had fast become Hermione's lifeline. As head of the Experimental Potions Division she'd poured all the excess energy that had been harbouring within her during her suspension into creating new concoctions and brews which could be used to heal, cure, harm or even destroy. It was a very time-consuming science which demanded patience and much concentration. She needed to record every hypothesis, formula, ingredient and step, as well as every success and failure. It was a job that, once started, had to be done with utmost devotion until the last phase of completion.  
  
And when did Hermione Granger ever not devote herself completely to a project?  
  
So when she read the note that the Ministry owl had just brought her, it would be understandable that she was not at all pleased.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
Hermione tapped her fingers impatiently against the wooden arm of the chair on which she sat - or rather, slouched. It had been a long day of standing bent over couldrons in the Potion Lab and her back ached. It did not help her mood any, to be summoned like a house-elf who had nothing to do but hasten to Fudge's beck and call - and then be kept waiting for a full twenty minutes. Instead of of becoming one with the furniture outside the illustrious main office of the Ministry of Magic, she could have been using her time constructively. She was impatient to test out her theory that a concoction of dahlia juice , thistle and certain benthos from the Mediterranean Sea as well as certain other ingredients boiled in protean alcohol would result in a potion which would allow the drinker to...  
  
"Miss Granger?"  
  
Her train of thought broken, she looked up to see Cornelius Fudge's face appear from his doorway. After beckoning her inside, he invited her to sit with a single imperial gesture to a chair as he himself settled into his plush throne. Idly, Hermione noticed that his desk was large, wide and made of the highest quality wood. She also noticed that the work in his "In" tray overwhelmed the papers in the "Out" box by at least a ratio of 7:1.  
  
Not being a man who faffed about - unless he had something important to say - he got straight to the point. "Well, Miss Granger. I'm about to make you a proposition. A proposition, which I hope that you won't refuse."  
  
'Oh Merlin! So the rumours are true," thought Hermione frantically. There had been murmurs floating around that the reason so many witches had resigned from their high-class posts in the Ministry, was because Fudge had made them indecent proposals of raised salaries in return for clandestine...ahem...encounters.  
  
It appeared that she, Hermione Granger, was the next intended victim of Fudge's overzealous appetite. Suddenly she was not quite so admiring of Fudge's very long, very wide and very strong desk.  
  
"I'm not sleeping with you!" she blurted out, cringing even as the words left her mouth. She had the unfortunate gift of saying the wrong thing at the wrong time - as had been very well proved in her fifth year of Hogwarts when she had basically told the proudly independent centaurs of the Forbidden Forest that she had used them to get rid of "Professor" Umbridge. Not to mention that spending so much time with the Weasleys had affected the part of her brain that would normally deal with tact. Her mouth, as a result, often worked quite independently of her brain.  
  
In horror, she watched Fudge blink in confusion, and as the full impact of her words struck him, a scarlet flush unfolded across his face like a red carpet at an important muggle celebrity event. Already, she could see her instant dismissal and any hope of re-joining the Aurors dashed.  
  
Then he burst out laughing.  
  
"Miss Granger," he chuckled heartily, "I do enjoy your sense of humor. It's not everyday that I hear such outrageous outbursts."  
  
Hermione stared at him, trying to figure out where she stood exactly in the proceedings. So perhaps sex was not on the old gull's menu and it most certainly appeared that she wasn't the catch of the day either, thank Merlin.  
  
'Insulted the Boss and didn't get fired', she thought, 'maybe this isn't such a lousy day after all.'  
  
"Jokes aside," he continued in his annoying sing-song voice, "we must address a very serious matter. As I said, I have a proposition for you. I know that you have another 6 months before your next evaluation, but circumstances have come to pass which require your services. Mr Potter - whom, as of course you know, is head of the Magical Crimes Investigation Unit - has made a special request to the board to allow him to send you on a short-term undercover assignment. As the specifics indicate that we have no other qualified Auror who can do the job - unfortunately Nymphadora is away on maternity leave - the board has decided that you should be awarded the chance to redeem yourself. If you prove yourself capable, you will be immediately returned - with full honours - to your former post within the Auror Squad. You would not have to wait for a further six months for the board's decision."  
  
Hermione could hardly believe her ears. They were giving her a second chance?  
  
"Of course," Fudge continued in a sterner voice, "we have laid down conditions to which you must comply. Failure to do so will result in your absolute dismissal from Auror duty with no honours. Your position within the Ministry may even come under review, and we may decide not to keep you in the Potion Lab. Is that understood?"  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
"Right. Let's discuss your case. Mr Potter has been working on an extremely disturbing investigation. Four witches have been killed in the last month." He handed her a file which consisted of photographs of the bodies. Hermione could see how the victims' faces had been grotesquely disfigured. She did not grimace. She glanced at pictures taken of the deceased before their untimely deaths. They had all been young, attractive women just reaching the zenith of their beauty. Paging through their biographies she noted that all had been registered contestants for the upcoming "Miss Charming" pageant. Hermione suddenly had a horrible inkling as to what her assignment would be.  
  
"Mr Potter has decided that the best course of action would be to infiltrate the pageant - to have someone inside who can keep an eye out, report back information, etcetera. Ideally," he said peering skeptically at her, "someone who could pose as a contestant."  
  
Hermione then knew that her worst fears were coming true.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
"The board is not eager to send you on a solo assignment - you understand why, of course. After your last debacle, the risk is too high. Hence we have decided to partner you with one of our deep-cover operatives. He'll essentially be your back-up and a surety for us that you don't foul up this time. You'll take orders from him and he will report back to us whether or not it's worth taking you back on the squad. Mr Potter had volunteered to do the job himself but it would be unwise for him to even attempt any undercover work. He is, after all the very famous "Boy-who-Lived". The agent that we have found for you comes with the highest of credentials. He is known to entrench himself completely in his roles. I have no doubt that you'd learn a thing or two from him."  
  
Hermione gritted her teeth at the insinuation that she was a novice. She'd begun training as an Auror immediately after leaving school and in the four years since, she'd clocked more fieldtime than many more senior and so- called "experienced" dark-wizard catchers.  
  
Fudge stood up from his cushioned recliner and strolled towards a door that Hermione had never noticed before. She realised that it was an entrance to a secret chamber that could only be visible to those that Fudge wanted to see it.  
  
He placed his hand on the doorknob and gave it a slight turn to open it merely a crack - probably to alert the person on the other side - before turning back to face Hermione.  
  
"I'd like you to meet your new partner..."  
  
He swung open the door.  
  
"...Mr Draco Malfoy."  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 


	2. Conditions

Catwalker  
  
by  
The Goddess Bastet  
  
Rated R just to be safe.  
  
Summary : Hermione has to work undercover at a beauty pageant... while being under the watchful eye of a certain Draco Malfoy.  
  
Genre: Romance, Comedy, Drama, Mystery, Thriller, Horror.  
  
Chapter 2: Conditions  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
A/N: Yes, as many of you have noticed, this fic has been inspired by the Sandra Bullock movie "Miss Congeniality" However, please note that it is not a re-write. I've taken the basic ideas and done my own thing with them as far as possible.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
Having unconsciously stood as Fudge opened the door, Hermione had to grip the back-rest of her chair so as to not fall back down with shock.  
  
There he stood, in the doorway of the little room: The plague of her adolescence. After a recess of four years, he looked little different... The same platinum hair, the same steel-coloured eyes and that same radiation of raw power that seemed be emitted from his very core.  
  
Yet something was missing...  
  
"Mr Malfoy, this is Hermione Granger, whom I believe you are acquainted with from your school days. Am I correct?"  
  
Draco murmured his assent, though his gaze on Hermione did not waver.  
  
"Good, good!" beamed the Minister, "So I hope that the two of you will not be insulted if I leave you alone. I have a very important luncheon engagement. Please excuse me. You may, of course have private use of this office for as long as you need to re-acquaint yourselves with one another."  
  
For some reason that Hermione refused to put her finger on, she thought about the bloody desk again.  
  
"And oh, Miss Granger. I expect to know by tomorrow morning what your decision is. I trust that you'll make the right choice - this time."  
  
Within a matter of seconds and a cheery wave, Fudge was gone. Disapparition really was a handy trick. Pity the Minister was the only one with the clearance to use it in the building. She really wanted to wave her wand and be instantly away from the Slytherin prat too.  
  
Ah, there it was. Hermione knew exactly what had been missing from the above mentioned prat's face.  
  
The trademark Malfoy sneer.  
  
It unfurled itself across his features like a flag that had been tightly coiled and suddenly allowed to fly freely again.  
  
However could she have forgotten it?  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
Draco didn't think that he'd ever forget the look on Granger's face when Fudge announced that she'd be working with him.  
  
Pure.  
  
Utter.  
  
Horror.  
  
It was flattering really, that she remembered him with such strong emotions. He always liked to make an impression on those he encountered - and here was obviously an example of a job well done. Really, though... you'd think an Auror trained in undercover work would be able to keep her feelings more firmly in check. Had she forgotten everything while working in that stuffy lab of hers? Perhaps he would have to re-train her in addition to the babysitting assignment.  
  
By Salazar Slytherin, what had he got himself into?  
  
The least Fudge could have done was give him somebody who could pass as a model. Granger's lab robe was stained in multiple places, her hair still as alarming as the fur on a frightened cat, and her face, totally devoid of any make up was... well actually, her face was alright. That was exhaustion that was marring it. Given the right charms, who knew? Her figure... well honestly, with those robes, who COULD know? One could probably house the Russian circus comfortably in them.  
  
It suddenly occurred to him that they had yet to verbally insult each other. In all the glaring, speaking had been forgotten.  
  
But, alas, before he could select an appropriate taunt - and, oh, there were so many to choose from! - she whirled away and dashed out the door.  
  
How rude.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
When Hermione crashed through his office door like a beastess on a rampage, Harry thought it safe to assume that she was not pleased.  
  
Not pleased at all.  
  
As she looked quite ready to inflict bodily harm, he instinctively held up his hands to ward off any attack. It didn't protect him from verbal abuse though.  
  
"Harry James Potter, what in Azkaban do you think you're playing at? I can't believe that you put my name to Fudge for this bubble-headed assignment..." She went on and on, and Harry was starting to tune out when something she said caught his attention. "And if that wasn't enough, you just had to throw in Malfoy as well!", her voice had risen to an almost pitiful wail.  
  
Hold up!  
  
"Wait, Malfoy? As in Ferret-Boy Malfoy?"  
  
Hermione gave him a look like she thought he was a bit slow.  
  
Oh shit.  
  
"Good Merlin, Hermione. I'm sorry - I never knew, I swear! Fudge was insisting that you be kept under surveillance and that he had the perfect agent in mind. Hell, he was practically simpering... how the Dementor's Kiss is Malfoy a Ministry agent anyway? But think, Hermione! If you can pull this off, you're back on the squad. You'll just have to endure that pathetic git for a few days..."  
  
"Oh, the barb goes straight to the heart, Potter." Malfoy put on an injured face as he struck an imaginary dagger through his chest. The tragic-hero look soon gave way to his patented smirk as he leaned casually against the doorframe.  
  
"What, don't trust me to look after your girlfriend, Scarface? Afraid that I'll screw her over, let her get killed? I'm sure there's no fear of that... the murderer only goes for the pretty ones. Or perhaps you think I'll be sure to tell the Fudge-packer what a lousy Auror she is and have her booted out of Potter's Camp of Heroes? Actually, that would be fun."  
  
Draco chuckled as he saw Harry's fists clench tightly and Hermione's face pale. She turned back to Harry, suddenly tired of the whole sordid mess. "I'm busy with an important project in the lab - I can't just abandon it! Besides, Fudge said that he hoped I wouldn't refuse this assignment, but he didn't say that I couldn't refuse it. I'll just explain to him that I'll wait out my six months in the lab as previously agreed by the board."  
  
"Oh, come on Hermione," groaned Harry, "You know as well as I do that Fudge only said that for politeness... A formality of sorts. And I daresay that refusing this will be a bad idea. Firstly, I need you on this case. Don't look at me like I'm a traitor! Secondly, if you pass it up, the board will probably count it against you. I thought you wanted to be re-instated as an Auror!"  
  
"Of course I do! Just not now, not like this and most of all, not with HIM!" She practically yelled the last word while jabbing an accusatory finger towards the door, where a highly amused Draco still stood.  
  
"Tsk tsk, Granger. Didn't your parents ever tell you it's rude to point?"  
  
She then showed him an abrupt hand-sign which he strongly suspected meant nothing positive.  
  
Turning back to Harry, she spoke in a calmer voice. "My answer is no. Find somebody else for the job. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be in my lab - doing the job I'm currently paid to do." With that, she turned away from him. As she was began to walk away, he said quietly, "There is nobody else. You're all we've got." She paused briefly mid-stride, and she distinctly heard Draco mutter "Merlin help us then."  
  
"Sorry Harry," she said, "but I will not humiliate myself."  
  
Then she brushed past Draco at the door, leaving the two men - one frustrated, the other amused - to stare after her.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
Hermione glanced at the door in annoyance when the loud knock sounded. She was pretty sure that she had left a note on it stating quite clearly that she was not to be disturbed. Obviously, illiteracy was on the increase, since the pounding did not seem to be stopping anytime soon. She might as well open the door and get it over with.  
  
With an agitated flick of her wand, she unlocked the door. She put on her best 'no-nonsense' face and hand firmly on hip, mentally prepared for battle before pulling the door wide open. Ah, Malfoy again.  
  
"You know, you look a lot like Pansy Parkinson when you do that."  
  
He had just told her that she looked like a pug. Her surprised indignation temporarily robbed her of her well rehearsed bitchy voice and replaced it with a spluttering "WHAT!?!?" before she had the good sense to try an intimidating scowl.  
  
That just made him laugh.  
  
"I really want to hex you right now," she muttered. He seemed to consider her words.  
  
"Well, why don't you?"  
  
Needless to say, that wasn't quite the response she'd been expecting. However if that's what he wanted, she had seven years of revenge to pay him - with interest.  
  
"Now hold on Tiger! Let's keep this civilized," Draco said hurriedly as he saw the malicious gleam in her eye. "What I propose is a duel - You win, and Potter and I will find a way to get you off this case with no harm to your name. I win, and well... you tell Fudge that you're ready, happy and positively willing to begin "Operation Cover Girl!"  
  
'Cover Girl,' groaned Hermione inwardly, 'as in make-up and cleavage and embarrassingly low intelligence levels?'  
  
A duel? A chance to kick Malfoy's albino hide and get out of the nightmarish situation she found herself in?  
  
"You're on Malfoy!"  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~  
  
"I reckon it's a tie," mused Harry as he gauged Hermione and Draco's injuries. Both scowled at him: Hermione because she thought that as her best friend, he'd judge with a more biased eye in her favour. Draco because he didn't need a reason to scowl - ever. Besides, he thought Potter was the one who wanted Granger on the case in the first place.  
  
"So what now?" she asked, rubbing furiously on the spot on her wand-arm where Draco had hit her with the Itchiness hex. She still maintained that it was the most childish move ever used in an adult duel. From a man raised by a Death Eater, no less! However she could not fault its effectiveness.  
  
When you've got an itch, you've got to scratch.  
  
"Well I suppose there's nothing more we can do other than compromise." Again both parties scowled. Why did he have to be peacemaker between the two most headstrong, stubborn, bull-headed...  
  
"Fine, Granger. If you do the job, you get the satisfaction of possibly apprehending a dangerous criminal and saving innocent lives. Doesn't that appeal to your bleeding Gryffindor heart?" Draco asked, while gingerly nursing his darkly bruised cheekbone. Didn't the girl know that in wizarding duels, physical muggle-y violence was generally frowned upon? She sure could pack a whopper of a punch, though - he'd give her that.  
  
"Much more than I imagine it appeals to your Slytherin chunk of ice, Malfoy." Hermione shot back. "Honestly, you sound like you actually care about innocents. Whatever happened to that delightful little ambition of yours to become a first class Death Eater? Did murder and mayhem not work out for you? Were the hours too long, the pay not good enough?"  
  
Something in his eyes flashed and Hermione bit her lip. Yet again, her mouth had shot itself off and she almost regretted it. However, ever since she'd seen him in Fudge's office she'd been nagged by questions. What had happened these past years that had resulted in Draco working for the good side? It was a rather unexpected occurrence.  
  
"Let's keep the topic focussed, shall we? Look, we both want the killer in Azkaban. What do we have to do to get you to do this?"  
  
Hermione sighed, and rubbed her itching arm even harder. It was becoming abundantly clear that she was going to have to do the assignment - big hair, heaving bosoms and all.  
  
"Well, for a start, you can take this stupid hex off," she muttered in defeat. She managed to not let her sulk slip when she saw Harry's relieved grin. Draco immediately complied. She had to wonder why he was so eager to work on the case. You'd think that he'd have done everything in his power to avoid having to work with the 'Mudblood Know-it-All'. If she was off, he wouldn't have to stick around either. Some other agent who wasn't suspended would be found for the job - for Hermione could not believe that she was the best choice. Then Malfoy could go back to whatever it was he was doing before Fudge told him that he was needed to supervise a certain wayward-prone Auror.  
  
It just didn't make sense that he'd try this hard to get her to say yes.  
  
"Is that it?" he asked. She realized that he was talking about her conditions for doing the job. If he thought that removing a second-year hex was all it took to win her over to the land of airheads, he was most seriously mistaken!  
  
"Hell no! Firstly, if you call me a Mudblood even once during this fiasco..."  
  
"Have I called you one yet?" he interrupted impatiently.  
  
"Well, no." Oddly enough, he hadn't.  
  
"Right, proceed."  
  
"Secondly, this is strictly business. You will not be there only to tattle- tale on me, you'll be my only back-up too. I need to know that if I need your assistance, you won't be chatting up the other contestants or something."  
  
He pursed his lips, as if he was trying desperately not to smile. "Oh, don't worry sweetheart. You're the only "Miss Charming" in my life."  
  
"Ha Ha Malfoy."  
  
"And thirdly?" he prompted.  
  
"Thirdly, if you make me look like a fool, I swear by the Founders of Hogwarts that you will live just long enough to regret it."  
  
Draco grinned then, showing off his polished set of teeth with boyish humour.  
  
"Oh, come on Granger! Why should I make you look like a fool when you're perfectly capable of doing that yourself? So are you done? Or should I grab a quill and parchment and get the next nine-hundred and ninety-seven down?"  
  
"No, I think that about covers it. I suppose it's too much to ask that you judge my performance fairly. Anyhow you may inform Minister Fudge," and here she clapped her hands loudly together twice in quick succession, before striking a mock pose - complete with pouting lips and fluttering eyelashes, "that I am ready for my close up!"  
  
Both Harry and Draco groaned.  
  
~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~ 


End file.
